lWoD Changeling “Bridget”: The Purple Fruit (Tentacles, Aphrodisiac, Changeling, Impreg) It was the rules that she couldn’t understand. Ever since she met Liz, that girl tried to put rules on their trips beyond the special door. In Liz’s defense, Bridget knew that Liz had been there more often. Evidently Liz was stuck there for a whole year once? She wouldn’t talk about it, and it took Bridget hours of talking and prodding and liberal use of alcohol to get that strange girl to open up about it at all. Then Liz told her about the door, and they went through, and Bridget found out that fairy tales are real. The door was just a service door in an alley along Alice way, right before 34th. It seems normal, until you realize there is no building for the door to lead to. It just goes into a brick wall, should lead right to the flip side, where there is a dumpster and a few shopping carts from the Shopmart. On the other side is an alleyway that shouldn’t exist. Follow the alley for half a minute, and the pavement turns to a beaten dirt path, and the brick walls become a wild web of spiraling hedgethorns. “Don’t touch the thorns,” Was Liz’s first rule. She made Bridget sweat not to, and she did just to avoid that terrified look in Liz’s eyes. “Don’t wander too far,” Was the second rule, “Always stay on the path.” Together Bridget and Liz walked the paths. She enjoyed their time together, even if Liz was a little strange. She had never met someone so damaged, but so in control. It was like talking to a dictator, but all she ruled was her little one bedroom filled with pictures of Ireland, and Bridget. They found an orchard once, and Liz grabbed Bridget by the shoulder so hard that it stung. She was adding another rule, “Don’t eat the purple fruit.” That was the last straw. Not that Bridget didn’t love Liz, but she was a grown woman. As far as she knew, that land of wonder didn’t belong to anyone, especially not Liz. Bridget waited for a Sunday, where Liz ran off for some special church service she always attended, ‘survivor’s sermon’ she would call it. That was when Bridget made her move. She went to the door, knocked three times, then pushed it open. Right away she was in that special land, walking among the hedge. She walked to the strange bushes, and looked closely at the thorns among them. It wasn’t like any sort of bush she saw back in reality. It twisted in on itself, thick branches like her wrist, with thorns that looked as sharp as blades. It was strange, but that didn’t surprise her here. Once Liz lit a fire on the path, with no fuel, and it lasted a whole day. Nature didn’t work the same here. Bridget touched one of the branches, and it almost felt warm. She stroked along the length, then felt a prick along her forearm. “Shit,” She said, pulling her arm back to look at the wound. It was small, but it felt like a bee sting. A tiny prick of blood dripped from her arm. She looked for the thorn that caused it, her blood was hanging from the thorn, a droplet that refused to fall. “One rule down,” Bridget whispered before she continued down the path. She planned to see what this place had to offer. Bridget was sure that Liz was hiding something from her, some secret the girl didn’t want to tell. So Bridget would strike off the path, stay as long as she wanted, talk back when inanimate objects spoke to her, even follow the sounds of crying animals. All the little rules that Liz laid out, all the taboos, were going to be broken. Bridget stopped on the path, realizing she was walking alongside the orchard. The thought came to mind of those fruits up in the trees. Large berries, beautiful dimpled apples, all gleaming with sunlight and dripping moist. She wanted to try one so bad when last they found that orchard, but Liz’s warning rang in her ears. Don’t eat the purple fruit. “Fuck your purple fruit,” She murmured to herself as she pushed through hedges into the orchard. It was mostly one large tree, surrounded by many smaller ones. It felt cool. Despite a blazing light from above, the trees extended shade across the little grassy hill. Each tree held different fruits, and sometimes a mix. She grabbed something that looked like two bright yellow cherries merged into one. She took a bite, and felt the sweetest fruit she had ever tasted. It went down smooth, and she swore after she ate it, her ears picked up sounds clearer than ever before. She finished the fruit, letting out a satisfied sigh. She grabbed a brown melon as she continued walking toward the central tree. She broke the hard outside over a trunk, and inside it was pure white. She tasted it, and found something like a meat pie. It had a thick taste, not unlike a well cooked turkey that waste just missing more gravy. Why Liz wanted to avoid these, Bridget didn’t know. She got to the base of the largest tree, and stood in awe of it. She could see them hanging above, swaying despite the lack of a breeze. Purple fruits, each looking like purple pears the size of a gourd. The tree that held them wasn’t normal either, the bark looked like twisted vines, knotted and spiraling toward the heavens. The trunk was thick enough that it would take her and ten more people to wrap their arms around it. It was majestic, and at the same time something about it was intimidating. The purple fruit was out of reach, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. She put down her little backpack, and gripped her fingers into the wedges between the twisted-vine trunk. She climbed, not the hardest climb even, until she reached a low branch. It felt like the fruit was reaching out to her, swaying in her direction, the branch even leaning down in her direction. She plucked it, and climbed back down with it in her clutches. It was cold, impossibly cold for where she plucked it from. It felt fresh from a fridge, put a chill in her chest. She jumped the last foot down, and looked at her prize. It didn’t look so dangerous from there. Bridget leaned her back against the tree, and took a large bite out of the side of it. An explosive sweet flavor filled her mouth. Instinctively she let out a moan of pleasure. It was, without a doubt, the best fruit she ever tasted, the best anything. She closed her eyes, and it felt like the world was humming around her. Her senses were opening, she could hear the call of distant winged beats, smell the hedge across the orchard, feel the crawl of minute creatures on her skin. This fruit was astounding. She took another bite, then looked into the fruit itself. There wasn’t a pit, or any seeds really. That was strange, but then again she ate seedless fruits from the store on a daily basis. Though she wondered how she would ever go back to that now. As she swallowed, it felt like the fruit was igniting her whole body. She felt a tingle in her chest, like ice running along her veins was exciting her in ways that would be embarrassing if she wasn’t alone. Her nipples grew erect, and every breath made her feel breasts feel sensitive. A swell of heat focused between her legs, and she shifted her hips where she stood. Was she wet? There was no denying it, unbelievably so. Maybe Liz was jealous of the fruit, it seemed like her. “Eat.” A whisper on the wind. She stood up from the tree and looked left, and right, but no one was there. Maybe it was her expanded senses, but it sounded like a voice there with her in the orchard. She took a bite of the fruit, and chewed it as she took a step out into the shade. To tell the truth, she felt both excited and exhausted. Her body was working overdrive, but to what end she didn’t know. She just wanted more fruit. Would she have the strength to climb and get another? She turned toward the trunk to look up at the next lowest fruit, and gasped in surprise. The tree was reaching for her. Long brown vines, unwrapped from the trees trunk, had extended out. They waved in the air, slow and methodical, their tips like rounded knobs. Bridget froze in shock. She tried to move back as one vine approached her arm, but she felt sluggish. It wrapped around her wrist, a tight grip that had trouble escaping. “Eat.” Another vine grabbed her opposite upper arm. It almost made it hard for Bridget to take another bite. Why was it grabbing her? She needed to get free. Yanking wasn’t doing the job, she didn’t have any sharp tools on her. She beat at the vines, but it didn’t stop her from being drawn closer, close enough that vines could wrap around her thigh, her ankle. “Stop!” She shouted at the tree, even if it felt silly. She gripped the purple fruit tight, fought against the vines with all the strength she could muster, to the point that she fell back into the grass. Then the tree dragged her by her legs, resisting her wild kicks for freedom. From the ground in front of her erupted a root, the length at the tip seemed ribbed by different wood-like textures. She yelled, but the vines came closer, more twisting off of the trunk to reach out to her. They moved over her exposed arms, slid down her chest, brushed against her face. In her state, the fruit made every touch intense. The vines were like brushes, tickling against her skin, making her sensations prickle, creating awkward pulses of anticipation among her confusion. One vine appeared above her, and the tip looked sharpened to a point. Her eyes opened wide in alarm, afraid what it would try to do. Then it moved to her chest, and slid down along her shirt, cutting it open to reveal her pink bra. It moved over the front of her pants, cutting away the crotch until her frilled panties underneath were exposed to the garden. She felt it against her, the root that erupted before. It slid along the outside of her panties, the small bumps in its surface sending thrills through her hips. She didn’t know what to think. She wanted to move away from it, but her body wouldn’t respond. Bridget couldn’t slide her hips away, or squeeze her thighs shut, she could only quiver as the foreign object tested the limits of her cute panties. It tried to press against them, slide up them, and teased the edges on each side. Bridget took another bite of the fruit, and closed her eyes as a vine began to massage one of her breasts with push after push into her tender places. She could hear Liz telling her, ‘I told you so’, as a soft groan of frustration left her lips. All she wanted was for that root to figure out how underwear worked. It slid past the band, and pushed into her slow. Ring by ring, bump by bump, it went deeper into her. It was warm, but not like any human. It was warm with an energy, with life. She could sense every detail on it, circular patterns, small etches and imperfections, with the inside of her body. Until it had filled her, completely, touching depths no man or woman ever had. Bridget felt her hips tense at the sensation, and the root stopped. It began to retreat, then entered again, a thrusting pattern that made Bridget’s fingers grip the nearest vine as it slid along her arm. The root was diving deep within her, pressing into every forbidden inch of her, and all she could do was bite her lip. A moan escaped her, long and bursting with a pleasure that was overwhelming her. She could feel it, the oncoming of something bigger and beautiful. She looked at the purple fruit, too lost now to even take another bite. Her body felt loose, but not numb. Far from numb, it was like every inch of her was alive with every sensation. A vine wrapped around her wrist, and forced the purple fruit toward her mouth. “Eat.” She bit down, and let it sit in her mouth, sliding down her throat by machinations not her own. It was aided by the sway of her body as the root pressed into her harder, faster. She swallowed, and could feel every moment of its journey to her stomach. Her moans were filling the orchard, animal-like cries that got louder and louder as the bite of fruit travelled. The root’s thrusting grew deeper, stronger. Then she saw it, out of half-closed eyes. There was a bulge in the root. It was travelling from the ground, a large bulge that forced it to nearly twice the girth. Another followed it, and another. They pushed up the length, toward the tip that was planted firmly in her nether places. A distant recognition of her situation arose. The fruit being forced in her face, the dribble of drool running down her cheeks, the vines across her body that held her in place. She tried to push back with her feet, maybe escape from whatever was coming through the gnarled root. The vines tightened, she was trapped. The fruit was pushed into her mouth, slid along her moistened lips. She felt so hungry, so thirsty, so hungry. Her stomach rumbled, and her lips shook. She took another bite, and felt her terror recede. As the bulge reached her, it pressed the root against all the right places. The ribs of pleasure slid over her lips, and Bridget’s mind blanked as ecstasy overtook her. It came in waves, a tingling of pleasure punctuated by the sensation of thick jets of fluid pumping into her, along with something solid. Her eyes closed in exhaustion, and she fell asleep. When she opened them again, it was night. A fire was beside her, roaring despite there being no wood piled beneath it. “You just had to try it, didn’t you?” Liz said. Bridget looked up at her beautiful Liz, and could read the disappointment in those darting eyes of hers. “I’m sorry,” Bridget said, “I just had to know.” Liz was sitting, taking in the heat with her hands extended. “Well now you’ll know all too well.” Bridget sat up, and put a hand to her stomach when she felt something shift. There was a sizeable bump, as if she was a few months pregnant. It didn’t feel soft, instead her stomach almost felt packed. “I give you about a week,” Liz said, “before the first one.” Bridget felt a sinking sensation, “The first one?” “Never eat the purple fruit,” Liz said. Still, Bridget had to admit it was the most delicious fruit she ever tasted, or felt. She squeezed at her stomach, and felt a pang of fear, sadness, and anticipation.